October 24th, 1996, was a typical Thursday morning to go to school at College Alfajiri in Bukavu, my hometown in eastern Congo. My twin-brother Christophe Cirhigiri and I were walking to school when we noticed ‘Shock,’ the school’s green pickup that brought teachers who lived in the outskirts of town, drive past us! There was nothing as disastrous for pupils in my time as arriving at Alfajiri after Shock 🙂 So we started racing after it, panting our lungs out as we hoped to still make it in time to school.
Midway in our painstaking racing together with other retardateurs (late goers to school 😊), something unexpected and sudden happened. We heard heavy gunshots from different parts of town. Commotion and pandemonia ensued. My twin brother and I managed to bundle together, although worried that stray bullets would hit us every time. Luckily we reached home to reunite with my concerned family. What was going on? For how long would this mayhem last? Would we still go back to school? All these questions were on everyone’s mind. My father later found out from the BBC that a group of Rwandan and Ugandan-backed rebels had besieged some parts of the city.
My parents then brought the whole family in prayer. Our home was by the street side and was unsafe for us in these circumstances. We knew that the danger was looming and that we needed to evacuate. My parents were restless as they scanned the house to decide what items to take.
During this time, we used to sell yaourt and waffles to passersby from my home. While my parents asked each of my siblings to carry at least one essential item for the journey, I ran to our fridge and pulled a 5litre gallon of milk and a plastic bag full of homemade waffles! That was already so much weight for a nine-year-old boy departing to the unknown. However, I preferred helping in the food department, for personal reasons 😊. I still vividly remember the sadness and distress on my parents’ faces that afternoon as we joined the caravan of thousands of internally displaced families running away from Bukavu for safety in neighboring villages. With the cross of Christ before us, we marched for four days, day and night, in the rain and the scorching sun with sometimes no food (the yaourt and waffles vanished after day 1!). No shelter. No help but solidarity with other displaced families. But through it all and through the subsequent displacements and conflicts we experienced, God protected us and provided for our needs.
My heart and prayer go today to all Internally Displaced families in the DRC, Ukraine, Yemen, Syria, Iraq, South Sudan, and Afghanistan living in this moment through the bitter experiences of loss and destruction of their livelihoods due to external armed invasions. May the cross of Christ go before you and protect you from all harm. May you meet good Samaritans along the way to give you water to quench your thirst and bread to calm your hunger. May all of us watching your plight from a distance decide to be your good Samaritans today, in the best way we can. Amen.
By the way, where were you and your family on October 24th, 1996? 😊
Photo: In 2013 fooling around with my buddies at the Internally Displaced Camp of Mugunga in Goma (North Kivu).
For the following Monday, I kindly invite Sammy Kaihuri Julien Bahati Alice Hight Matthews, and Prashan De Visser to share a testimony. When/if you do share, remember to use the hashtag #monday4testimony so that those already following this witnessing effort can easily find your sharing. May God’s Spirit provide for your family, lead you, and protect you in the coming week. Stay always blessed.